Comfort of the Dirty Mistresses
by LW107
Summary: Following the rejection of George and Addison, can two members of the Dirty Mistresses’ Club find comfort in one another? Begins immediately after Desire and explores the events up until Testing 123. Mark and Izzie pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so this is the semi-raunchy effect of my study break from finals. Hope you enjoy it , especially Pooh and Amanda, my super-smutty friends :-)**

**I don't own Grey's, but if I did, this is what WOULD have happened at the end of Desire.**

**Following the rejection of George and Addison, can two members of the Dirty Mistresses' Club find comfort in one another? Set immediately after Desire. Mark and Izzie pairing.**

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_George is transferring to Mercy West. George is transferring to Mercy West._

The thought reverberated through Izzie's mind as she quickly made her way to the linen closet, hoping to find a sanctuary among the walls of bed sheets and pillowcases. She did her best to swallow the lump in her throat as she wondered how they had gotten to this point. A few months prior, Izzie would have immediately sought out George in such a time of personal crises, knowing that, as her best friend, he would unquestionably support her no matter what was going on in her life, but now Izzie found herself without a best friend to lean on, and her loneliness was slowly suffocating her.

_George is transferring to Mercy West._

Tears stung her eyes as she rounded the corner of the hallway, racing to her destination. Things would never be the same between her and George, she knew. He was her penis fish, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, he had lodged himself inside of her and now her mind couldn't block out the image of their bodies moving drunkenly together in the darkness of her bedroom. She knew in her heart that he would never belong to her. He didn't want her, and he was actually transferring to a hospital on the other side of Seattle to escape the presence of her in his life.

_George is transferring to Mercy West._

A sob escaped her lips as her hand turned the knob of the linen closet door, and she threw her self into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she rested her forehead against the door, and she let the sobs escape freely from her grief-ridden body.

"Stevens?" a male voice unexpectedly called behind her, startling her from her weeping.

She jumped at the intrusion and spun around to face the other occupant of the room. "Dr. Sloan?" she asked, surprised to find the cocky attending sitting dejectedly on the floor of the linen closet. Wasn't this closet reserved for the angst-ridden moments of the _interns_? "What are _you_ doing in here?" she asked quietly.

He flashed Izzie a sardonic smile. "Oh you know, wallowing in my own self-pity and self-loathing," he told her. "What's the matter with _you_?" he asked immediately, turning the conversation away from himself before she had a chance to pry into his life.

Izzie wiped the tears from her face, embarrassed to be caught in such a state by her superior. "Nothing," she told him, her quivering voice betraying her internal suffering.

"Clearly," he said sarcastically as he stood up from his position on the floor. When he walked toward her, Izzie looked shamefully at the ground, shielding her tearstained face from his sight.

As Mark looked down on the vulnerable woman before him, sympathy coursed through him briefly, but it was quickly squandered by his own torment as a memory passed through his mind of Addison and Karev leaving that very linen closet obviously flushed with sexual satisfaction.

Before Izzie had entered it, Mark had been sitting in that closet, wallowing in self-pity for the better part of an hour. He had come straight here following his confession to Addison concerning his "failure" at complying with their sixty day pact. He had thought that following Meredith's advice to "let her go" would somehow help him move on with his life, but if anything, he now felt more miserable and alone than he had before. Looking down at Izzie, he took comfort in knowing that there was someone who felt as miserable as he did. "Seriously, what's the matter with you? You're not falling in love with another patient, I hope," he said, knowing he was being an ass, yet not really caring.

She looked up sharply when the words escaped his tongue, anger flashing in her eyes just as he knew it would. "You're such a bastard," she hissed, turning toward the door to leave. She managed to open the door only a few inches before he reached out and slammed in shut, his hand remaining firmly against it, effectively trapping her between him and the door. Izzie turned around to face him, her faced flushed with frustration. "What's your _problem_?" she demanded.

He leaned his face in so that they were only inches apart. Izzie's breaths came in angry huffs as Sloan looked down on her, his lips so close they were almost touching hers. In a low voice, he said harshly, "If you don't want to tell me about your petty little problems, fine. I was just trying to be _helpful_."

She was startlingly aware of the loss of his body heat when he stepped away, walking to the other side of the linen closet so that she could leave, and she was once again painfully conscious of how alone she felt. "I slept with a married man," she suddenly blurted out, startling both of them with her confession. She hadn't meant to tell him, really she hadn't. First Burke and now Sloan; it was like verbal diarrhea of the worst kind, but she suddenly felt that if she didn't talk about it, she would explode. "It was George; I slept with George. We got drunk and had sex, only it wasn't _bad_ drunk sex, it was _good_ drunk sex, and now I can't stop thinking about it. But of course he doesn't want to hurt _Callie_, so its suppose to be our little secret, only we can't seem to _even_ _work_ together without this awkward tension between us, so now George is transferring to Mercy West to get away from me, and I…I…"

Mark had stared at her with a blank expression the entire time the words tumbled from her mouth, but his expression softened when he saw her struggling to maintain her composure. She looked away from his face when she saw his gentle expression, feeling as though she didn't deserve his understanding. "Don't look at me like that," she begged quietly.

Mark held up his hands in innocence and smiled softly. "Hey, as the president of the Dirty Mistresses' Club, you'll get no judgment from me."

"Yes, well I _deserve_ your judgment. I did a terrible, terrible thing," she said quietly, closing her eyes at the painful thought of the damage that had been done to her and George's relationship.

Mark sighed. "Yeah, well we all make mistakes," he told her gravely.

She looked at him appreciatively, realizing that out of everyone, Mark Sloan was the least likely to judge her for her adulterous blunder. Nodding her head with a small smile, she confirmed, "Yeah, I guess we do."

As silence fell over them, Mark suddenly felt uncomfortable in the tiny, emotionally charged space. Needing to lighten the mood, he grinned sarcastically and said, "So, you actually spread those gorgeous legs of yours for O'Malley, huh?" He didn't know exactly why he took such pleasure in pressing her buttons, but he was never disappointed by her snappy responses.

A frown once again fell upon her face and she glared at him, angrily spitting out, "That's a funny statement coming from the hospital's residential _manwhore_."

The McSteamy grin immediately fell from his face. The words stung in light of his recent conversation with Addison, and irritation compelled him to walk toward her quickly, a scowl marking his features. Seeing his serious expression, Izzie's eyes widened slightly and she took a step backward, but she found herself pressed up against the door unable to move. He stared her in the eye, his gaze only wavering long enough to for him to look at her full, parted lips as she breathed nervously before him. "You know _nothing_ about me," he growled as his mouth came crashing angrily onto hers.

She struggled against him, using her arms to push his chest away from her own in a feeble attempt to put a stop to what was so obviously on its way to becoming yet another sexual mistake. He paid no attention to her struggles, however, and his hands came to rest momentarily on her hips before lightly tracing the hem of her scrubs. "Don't" she demanded weakly against his lips, though her protest was merely a formality because nothing had felt this good to her in a long time and, God help her, she didn't want him to stop.

As Mark slowly untied the drawstring at the top of her scrub bottoms, Meredith's voice penetrated his mind. _"Revenge sex is not the answer,"_ she had told him after Jennings' candirú surgery. Yeah, well what did she know? She and Derek were quickly falling apart at the seams; she had no business giving out relationship advice.

When the drawstring on Izzie's scrubs came loose, he tugged her pants gently over her hips and let them fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. "Mmm," he said against her mouth. "You taste like…like cake," he whispered, running his tongue along her bottom lip.

He felt her laugh softly against him. "Wedding cake," she mumbled when he freed her mouth by placing kisses along her jaw.

Izzie had a hard time concentrating as Mark slowly moved his lips down to her neck, but she did know that he was greatly over dressed. Not feeling the need for subtleness, she dipped her hand inside of his scrub bottoms, feeling him tense as she wrapped her hands around the mighty force that drove Mark Sloan.

He paused in his ministrations against her neck as he felt her hands wrap around him, unable to focus as his lungs suddenly emptied of oxygen. He wasn't sure if it was the thirty-two days of no sex or if it was the obvious chemistry he had with the woman before him, but Mark hadn't felt this out of control since he was a hormone-driven teenager scouring the girl's locker room for another girl to bed.

"Jesus, Izzie," he whispered hoarsely, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

_Beep, beep, beep._

Mark and Izzie groaned simultaneously at the intrusion of the pager buried underneath Izzie's pants on the floor. Mark leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "You've _got_ to be kidding me," he whispered in frustration as Izzie gently removed her hand from the front of his scrubs.

She bent down and checked her pager, and then looked apologetically to Mark as she picked up her scrubs from the floor. "I'm sorry. It's my patient…" she explained as she struggled to replace her pants.

He nodded understandingly as he watched her straighten out her clothing, though the frustration he felt was clearly marked on his face. Izzie paused as she turned to leave, looking at him nervously. "Uh, what…what was this?" she asked, gesturing between Mark and herself.

He looked at her momentarily before smiling at her, running his hands through her mass of golden curls and bringing her head to his so that he could give her one last kiss. "Let's just say it was two Dirty Mistresses finding comfort in one another," he told her as they broke apart, and he watched her smile and walk out the linen closet door.

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Thanks for reading. This can easily exist as an oneshot, but I have some ideas for future chapters if anyone is interested in me writing them :-)

Reviews equal Lilly love


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for stringing you guys along…I didn't mean for it to take so long to update, but I finally finished my finals so here it is!**

**This chapter takes place after The Other Side of This Life. I'm enjoying playing off the episodes for the moment, so if it works out, I might just write around those for the next couple of weeks and then I will begin an entirely independent plot. That is, of course, if people remain interested in my ramblings…**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I LOOOOVE them, especially because it makes me happy to know that there are so many other McStizzie supporters:) **

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Mark walked to the elevators, pressing the down button as he zipped up his leather jacket in preparation for entering into the chilly Seattle night. Finally his shift was over, and all he could think about was nursing a drink in the bar of his hotel. Beginning with the Chief's news that Addison had taken a leave of absence, his day had been terrible and his current mood was a reflection of the combination of resentment and misery that he felt.

Normally so cocky and emotionally unaffected, Mark had felt uncomfortable with his uncharacteristic feelings spurred by Addison's rejection and abandonment. In his usual fashion, he's had dealt with his negative feelings by taking his frustrations out on an intern. His target had appropriately been Karev, but even ripping into the younger man had not helped to alleviate his negative feelings. Desperate for an understanding ear, he had turned to Derek, hoping that his old friend would recognize his vulnerability. Derek had, but rather than supplying his ex best friend with helpful advice as Mark had hoped, he'd played into Mark's weaknesses, laughing over the irony that Mark had found Addison cheating on him with another man.

Finally the day was over, though, and Mark couldn't wait to punish his body with excess amounts of scotch. He knew that it wouldn't solve the answer to his problems, but losing sight of his misery in a drunken haze was a temporary solution to what would otherwise be a painfully lonely night in a room filled with memories of Addie.

Mark sighed with relief when the elevator dinged, signifying its arrival, and he took a step forward as the doors slowly parted. He faltered, though, when his eyes landed on the other occupant of the tiny space.

Izzie Steven's eyes widened when she saw Mark on the other side of the elevator doors, and she quickly wiped away the traces of tears left over from her encounter with George. She looked down uncomfortably, sure that her face in some way revealed her shameful adulterous activity from moments before, or at least the anguish that she felt over being rejected once again.

Her breath caught in her throat as Mark stepped into the small space, walking wordlessly past her to lean against the back wall of the elevator. Izzie continued to look straight ahead, refusing to give in to her desire to turn around and lose herself in the comfort of his embrace as she had just days before after George had told her about his possible transfer to Mercy West.

This was the first time they'd seen each other since their brief lustful encounter, and seeing her standing in front of him suddenly brought back the memory of her body pressed up against his as they'd ravaged one another against the door of the linen closet. The immediate desire that he felt at that memory overwhelmed him, and all thoughts of Addison quickly left his mind.

Mark straightened as the elevator began its sluggish descent to the first floor of the hospital, and he walked slowly to stand behind Izzie. He felt her tense up as she became aware of his body heat invading her space, and he heard her breath hitch in the back of her throat as he buried his face in the mass of golden curls that she had pulled into a ponytail. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the feminine scent of her silky locks as he allowed his lips to softly graze her exposed neck.

She moaned quietly when she felt his tongue nip at her neck before traveling to catch her earlobe, his mouth unknowingly retracing the path that George's hand had covered just minutes before. That thought snapped her from her lustful daze, though, and she straightened, taking a step forward to put space between them.

"I…I can't," she whispered, cursing herself when she heard the weakness in her voice.

Mark ignored her attempt to put space between them, stepping forward once again so that her back was pressed against his chest. Trapped in the elevator, Izzie had little room to run from her own desire, and Mark was happy to take advantage of the fact that she had no means of escape.

"Why not?" he questioned in a hushed tone, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. He felt her shiver in response and a small smile fell upon his lips as he realized that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They both knew losing themselves in one another would alleviate the pain caused by the problems that were currently eating away at them.

It became hard for Izzie to breathe as Mark's hands traveled down the sides of her abdomen, and she suddenly wondered if all of the oxygen had escaped into the elevator shaft. She bit her lip to prevent a moan when his hands slipped beneath her shirt, tracing small patterns on the sensitive skin just above the hem of her low-rise jeans. "I just…I just can't," she explained desperately, trying to convince herself of the words as she reminded herself that sex had been the root of her problems in the first place.

"Not because of O'Malley, I hope," he said gruffly, allowing his fingertips to run over her ribcage. He felt her go rigid at his words, but she didn't pull away.

"Shut up about him," she said, her voice sounding low with a mixture of anger and desire. "You don't know anything about that."

"Actually, I _do _know a little about adulterous affairs," he whispered.

Izzie closed her eyes in an effort to block out his words, but there was no way to block out her desire or prevent the shudder that wracked her body when she felt his hand brush against her breast. She suddenly felt cold, though, when he removed his hand from her skin to slip it into the front pocket of her sage green coat.

"What're you doing?" she croaked, her voice cracking as his hand lazily stroked her hip bone through the material.

"I'm giving you a gift," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

He withdrew his hand quickly as the elevator came to a halt, leaving her suddenly feeling deprived, and he stepped away from her as the doors slid open, revealing Alex and a wheelchair bound Ava waiting for the elevator.

Mark spared Alex a glance before walking calmly toward the front doors of Seattle Grace, not once looking over his shoulder. Izzie watched him briefly, but quickly tried to mask her frustration as she turned to Alex and Ava.

"Hey Ava," she said kindly, concentrating hard to keep the quiver from her voice. "How's the baby?"

"She's great," Ava said with a smile. "You should come see her sometime."

"Yeah, you should," Alex told Izzie as he smiled down at the patient. Izzie's eyes narrowed at the exchange as she recognized the all too familiar look of an overly-involved doctor-patient interaction. She definitely needed to have a conversation with Alex about his growing relationship with Ava.

"Hey, are you on you're way home?" Alex asked her suddenly, jarring her from her thoughts. "Because I'm taking Ava to her room, and then I could use a ride." Izzie nodded and agreed to wait on Alex, going to sit in a leather chair in the lobby of the front entrance. As she sat down, her hand slipped into her jacket pocket and wrapped around an unknown object, pulling it out to examine.

She inhaled sharply when she recognized Mark's "present" for what it was. The small, white plastic card in her hands was obviously a key to his hotel room. It was an obvious invitation, and Izzie knew that if she used the key, it might serve as a gateway into a dangerous, adulterated relationship.

It would also be an escape, though. A much needed escape from the loneliness that she had begun feeling long before she had slept with George. Izzie knew that if she went to Mark's hotel room tonight, they would just be using each other as a diversion from their pain, but in times of emotional desperation, did that really matter? As hard as she tried to ignore it, it felt _good_ to be with Mark, to momentarily forget about the mess that her life had become.

And she needed this. Surely it couldn't be wrong when she was so desperate for an escape.

Izzie was thinking about excuses she could give Alex about why she was no longer going home when Meredith walked out of the elevator, walking distractedly toward the front doors of the hospital.

"Mer?" Izzie called, rising from her chair to walk toward her distraught looking roommate. Growing worried when she saw Meredith's tearstained face and puffy cheek, she asked with concern, "Meredith, what happened to you?"

Meredith stared blankly at Izzie. "Susan died," she answered, tears filling her eyes as the words left her mouth.

"What?" Izzie whispered with disbelief. "She…she died? What happened?"

"She had the hiccups," Meredith said, a little bit of hysterical laughter escaping her mouth. "And now she's dead."

"Meredith, I…I'm so sorry," Izzie whispered, not really understanding her friend's explanation as she took her into her arms.

"My dad blames me," Meredith whispered brokenly against Izzie's shoulder. "He trusted me to take care of her, and I let him down."

"Mer, it's not your fault. I'm sure everyone did everything they could. Sometimes…sometimes things just happen that you can't control." There were sympathetic tears in Izzie's own eyes as watched Alex walking over to them from the elevators.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern when he saw their tearful expressions.

"Susan died," Izzie explained softly as Meredith pulled away, wiping her cheeks of tears.

"Oh…oh, Mer, I'm sorry," Alex said, knowing that the two women had grown close.

Meredith nodded. "I…I need tequila," she said suddenly.

Alex smiled sympathetically and nodded, not surprised by Meredith's solution to her pain. "Sounds like a plan," Alex said, putting his arm around Meredith's shoulder as the two of them walked to the door. "But let's go home. I don't have the energy to stop you from sleeping with inappropriate men tonight," he told her with a smile, and Meredith laughed slightly..

Izzie sighed and nodded to herself. This was probably a better plan, anyway. The ramifications of getting involved with Jose Cuervo were much less severe that ramifications of getting involved with Mark Sloan. Her mind made up, she quickly walked toward the entrance to catch up with Meredith and Alex, the keycard burning a hole in her pocket.

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**So my plan is to hold out for next week's episode before writing the next chapter. I might crack under pressure and give you all something before then, though. We'll see:)**


	3. Chapter 3

The bachelorette party had been exactly as Izzie had expected it to be; awkward and depressing. Uneasiness had ensued after Izzie's speech about not taking love for granted, and the four women had decided to ease the tension by going through six batches of margaritas. Things had gotten better once the alcohol had taken effect, but then strain between Callie and Izzie never quite went away.

Eventually, Callie sarcastically announced that she'd had enough fun for the night, making sure to emphasize that she needed to "get home to George," as she glared at Izzie. Soon thereafter, Meredith had dragged Cristina upstairs to bed, saying that the bride-to-be needed to sleep off her intoxication because Burke would never forgive them if she drunkenly stumbled down the aisle at the wedding the next day.

That had left Izzie all alone and she had been unable to keep her mind from wandering to George. She had told him earlier in the day that she didn't have feelings for him. "_I know you think I have feelings for you, but I don't. So you can stay. You're not leaving the program."_ She'd left the room quickly to keep from crumbling in front of him, but as soon as she'd been alone, she had allowed her tears to fall as pain had washed over her.

She still felt the ache in her heart as she had sat alone in the den, lost in her thoughts about what a mess her life had become. She couldn't believe that George was so serious about transferring to Mercy West. Did he really think that switching hospitals was going to erase the night they had spent together? Izzie knew better; no distance would be able to expunge their memories, nor would it fix the growing problems of their friendship. And those problems were enormous. Their friendship was virtually nonexistent due entirely to one reckless night they'd shared.

Their night together had been like a wakeup call for Izzie, allowing her to realize how incredibly lonely she had been feeling. In the months following Denny's death, Izzie had existed in haze, unaware and unconcerned with the world around her as she had struggled to work through her grief. She had finally reentered the world, though, ready to move on with her life, but it had seemed like everyone had moved on without her; Meredith with Derek, George with Callie, and even Alex was off frolicking in linen closets with Addison and playing house with Ava. This left Izzie all alone, and in her loneliness, she had lashed out against Callie, angry with her for stealing her best friend when she needed him the most. Izzie had known that her mistreatment of Callie had upset George, but she had been so desperate to regain his attention that she hadn't allowed herself to care.

The night that George had run to Izzie for consolation after his argument with Callie had been the greatest relief to Izzie in months. She had been comforted in the knowledge that he was still able to turn to her, and in her effort to act as a good friend, she had done her best to reassure his doubts about his marriage as they had nursed a bottle of bourbon. She had said to him, "_No one ever got married and didn't think that at least once,_" when he had shared his fear that his marriage had been a bad idea. How much more supportive could she have been?

And as the bourbon began to take its effect, George became even more open, freely telling her of Callie's theory concerning Izzie's own feelings for George. The hilarity of the theory had caused Izzie to dissolve into laughter, but she soon quieted down when she noticed George looking at her with lustful eyes.

Maybe it had been the freshness of the hurt of Alex's rejection earlier that night, or maybe it was because, like Meredith always said, alcohol always made people look porny, but Izzie had suddenly found herself looking at George in a way that she never thought possible. She hadn't resisted when he had led her up the stairs to her bedroom because it had felt good to have someone want her like that again. In the hours that she had spent with George, her loneliness had dissolved as she relished in the intimate contact that had been missing from her life for far too long. He had fed her craving for human attention, and as she had gazed up at him in her dimly lit bedroom, the realization that she was in love with him hit her with such a force that it stole her breath.

At least she had thought she was in love. Now, though, she was beginning to realize that it wasn't _George_ she was in love with, just the feeling of intimacy that she experienced while she had been with him. That didn't make it any easier for her to let George go, however. When she had told him that she didn't have feelings for him, she knew that she was letting go of the only person who had been willing to make her feel a little less lonely and a bit more desired.

But as she sat in the den of her house surrounded by empty margarita glasses, she realized that he wasn't the only person who had been able to do that.

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Mark walked out of the elevator of his hotel, fumbling in his pocket for the keycard to his suite. It took him several attempts to fit the key into the slot because his alcohol consumption at Burke's bachelor party was slightly inhibiting his coordination.

He finally pushed open the door and stumbled into the darkened room, his only desire to find the bed and pass out in a hopefully dreamless sleep. He walked to the bedside table, clicking on a light so that he could get undressed, and he stumbled back in surprise.

"Stevens…" he said.

Izzie was sitting on Mark's bed, and had been for almost an hour. She looked at him guardedly, and sighed. "I used the key," she told him, holding up the keycard that he had slipped into her pocket on the elevator as proof.

"Oh," he said simply, though his surprise at finding her alone in his room didn't lessen.

They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment before Izzie broke the silence. "Did you go to Burke's bachelor party?" she asked, as though making small talk in his hotel room was a normal occurrence.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, taking his shoes off at putting them in the closet.

Izzie watched him remove his leather jacket and toss it over a chair, and her eyes followed him as he walked over to the mini bar on the other side of the room. "Do you want a drink?" he asked.

She thought about saying no, but her drunken haze had tapered significantly in the hour that she'd spent waiting for him, and she could use something to take off the edge that she was beginning to feel. "Vodka rocks," she told him as he waited for her answer by the mini bar. She saw him nod and turn to make her drink and she cleared her throat nervously. "I told George that I didn't have feelings for him," she said, trying her best to keep her voice even.

He didn't turn around at her words, choosing instead to complete his work at the bar. Her drink finished, he quickly pored himself a scotch and then went to join her on the foot of the bed. "You did, huh?" he asked as he handed her the glass.

She looked at him with a glare, angry that he didn't recognize the significance of her act. "It's your fault," she told him irritably. "All that shit you spit out during the amputee surgery today about 'needing to make the cut when the infection gets too deep.' You did that on purpose," she accused. "Your comment was aimed at me." Mark didn't deny it as he sat quietly next to her nursing his cocktail. She sighed at his silence, looking away from him as she took a healthy sip of her own drink, savoring the burn as it traveled down her throat. "That's why I did it," she said quietly. "I made the cut to save George's marriage."

They sat wordlessly for several moments before Mark turned to her. "It sucks," he told her eventually before turning away once again to stare at the wall in front of them. "It sucks to tell someone that you don't want to be with them, even when you do," he said, thinking of his conversation with Addison the week before.

She nodded as tears came to her eyes, and she brought the cool glass to her lips to finish off the vodka. "Yeah, it does," she whispered in confirmation.

He took the empty glass from her hand and walked over to deposit them on the nightstand by the bed. Walking back to where she sat, he took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet.

Looking at him, her desperate eyes clouded by her intoxication, Izzie said softly, "I don't want to be alone anymore."

Mark nodded as he removed the headband from her hair so that her blonde curls fell forward. "I know," he whispered as he captured her lips in his.

When he had turned on the light to find Izzie sitting on his bed, he'd had no qualms about why she was there. Just like Addison, and even Callie at one time, Izzie had run to Mark, hoping to find an escape from her misery and loneliness. He wasn't hurt by her exploit; maybe comfort sex was all he was good for, as he was obviously not a relationship kind of guy.

He gently lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and removing it from her body. She stood still before him, allowing him to undress her as though she were a child, both of them remaining silent as her clothes fell to the floor.

When she was undressed, he hastily removed his own clothing and gently pushed her back onto the bed. He knew instinctively that a connection with someone was what Izzie really needed at the moment, so he wanted to make this night about her, about her needs and her desires.

He did his best to pleasure her, exploring her body in a way that elicited moans of pleasure as she writhed against the sheets. He was surprised, though, when she put a halt to her own bliss after only a few minutes, sitting up and pushing him against the mattress so that she could straddle his legs.

"This isn't just about me," she said gently, her breath still coming in pants from his assault on her body. He groaned and closed his eyes at the feel of her hand wrapping around him, surprised at her consideration. It wasn't usually like this. In the past when women had come to him to find solace, they never made his pleasure their priority. It was always about getting what they needed and getting out, finding the pleasure and comfort that they craved and then moving on. It was clear, though, that it was different with Izzie. She saw through his façade, realizing that he needed someone just as much as she did.

His desire for her intensified with this realization, and he abruptly reached up to flip her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head with a hand. With his other hand, he reached down to make sure that she was ready, enjoying the sight of her eyes darkening with pleasure. Wasting no time, he guided himself into her, watching her face intently as her eyes fluttered close with desire as he began to move above her.

It didn't take long for Izzie to reach her peak, and as she shuttered beneath him, Mark felt him own release as it hit him with surprising force. Collapsing on top of her breathlessly, he rested his head between her breasts as he felt her fingers sweep through his hair.

They remained silent for several minutes, their breathless pants sounding deafening in the otherwise noiseless room. Too tired to even open her eyes, Izzie remained motionless as she asked softly, "So was this…was this just another example of two dirty mistresses finding comfort in one another?"

Mark was quiet for several moments as he thought about her words, stroking his hand leisurely over her bare hip. Finally he tilted his head so that he could look up at her face. "Actually, I think it was more than that," he said quietly.

And she smiled.

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Well you probably noticed that this is the end. I was excited about following the episodes, but in light of the preview for next week that showed Izzie confessing her love to George…well, I decided I just don't have it in me to tackle that. Ugh. So I've decided to move on to a new McStizzie fic…One that I feel I have much more control over.

This was short, but I think the ending is appropriate. I certainly hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!

All reviews are loved:)


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